


Umbrella

by RiddleBlack



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 21:26:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2323718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiddleBlack/pseuds/RiddleBlack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only time Mycroft Holmes ever forgot an umbrella in his life resulted in something rather life-changing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Umbrella

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this two years ago and I figured that it was about time I moved it back on to my primary fan fiction account. I will be a primarily Supernatural writer, but a little Mystrade never hurt anyone. ;)

_Caring is not an advantage, Mycroft. The sooner you appreciate that, the better._

Mycroft rubbed his temples anxiously, remembering the day Mummy told him that; the day his father passed. As he leaned back in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, watching nurses dart about, he was starting to wish he had taken that advice.

_Six Months Ago_

Mycroft flipped through the pages of his textbook quickly, hoping to find some sort of new information that may keep him occupied for at least a few minutes. Finding nothing, he suppressed the urge to slam the book shut loudly and sighed. Glancing up at the library's clock, he figured he should just head back to his flat for the evening. He had classes the next morning after all and he didn't see the point in feeling lethargic. Picking up his books carefully, he headed out the door.

Racing quickly through the streets, he swore to himself for not bringing an umbrella. ' _Bloody weather report said it'd be sunny all week'_ he thought angrily to himself, carefully brushing past people to get to his flat. He almost there when a sudden stranger slammed into him, sending his books flying to the pavement. Mycroft muttered angrily and proceeded to pick up the books. As he was doing so, he noticed a grimy pair of trainers remaining on top of one them. He glared up at the stranger.

The man appeared to be slightly older than him, if only by a few years. He had messy dark hair and brown eyes. He wore increasingly old clothing, obviously hand-me-downs. He was smoking; holding an umbrella… and staring directly back at him.

"Excuse me," Mycroft muttered, gesturing to the man's feet, "my book." The man didn't reply, only stepping back to allow Mycroft to retrieve it. But he continued to just stand there. Mycroft stood up and raised an eyebrow at the man.

"Yes? Is there something you need?" he inquired, shifting his books about in his arms. The man smirked cockily, blowing smoke into his face.

"Yeah, but I doubt you'd appreciate it." He answered, giving Mycroft an once-over. Mycroft scoffed at him, disgusted by the comment. Just as he began to walk away, he felt an arm grab on to his. He turned back to the man. Just as he was about to speak, he handed him umbrella and handed him a card.

"I imagine you're the type that doesn't like getting wet." He said, winking at Mycroft, before pulling his hood up and heading in the opposite direction. Mycroft felt his face warm and he raced hurriedly to his flat.

Leaning back on the sofa, he stared at the card that had been handed to him. In messy and smudged scrawl, it read; _Greg Lestrade_ _07846536345_

He sighed and glanced at the umbrella by the door. Rolling his eyes, he tossed the card on his coffee table and headed to bed. He'd probably never see him again, so why would it matter?

_Five Months Ago_

Mycroft stood impatiently at the sidewalk, attempting to get a taxi. As the fifth one passed him by, he gave up and just decided to walk. As he began to head towards his flat, he heard a loud whistle from behind him. He turned around and found that it was the same man from a month ago, racing up behind him. He stopped in front of him panting, holding up a finger meaning to say, _'Hold on'._ When he finally stood up straight, he raised an eyebrow and smiled at him.

"Mind if I shared my umbrella?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. Mycroft blinked before realizing what he meant.

"God, I'm so sorry that I didn't return it," he said quickly and started to hand it back. Greg shook his head. "Doesn't matter, I can get another one. Mind if I share this one for now, sweetheart?"

Mycroft scoffed and rolled his eyes at the term, but did feel his face heating slightly. "Fine. Where are you headed?" he muttered, choosing instead to stare at the pavement rather than his conversational partner.

"Hallam Street*, those old flats they're doing construction on." He answered, smirking smugly at Mycroft's red face. "You probably wouldn't have seen em', you seem too posh to be going down there, right?"

Mycroft shot him a sharp glare and the man laughed. "Well, you're quite the ice man, aren't you? Can't reckon the ladies enjoy that, do they?"

He didn't reply, only continuing to walk along the street. Receiving no response, Greg nodded and hummed understandingly. "Ah, not interested in ladies, hmm? Well, no issue in that; you like what you like, be it ladies or blokes." He laughed. They carried on in a somewhat awkward silence. Greg pulled out a package of cigarettes, holding it out to Mycroft. "Smoke?" he asked as he pulled one out for himself. Mycroft shook his head.

"Trying to quit?" he asked, lighting the cigarette. Mycroft nodded. "Ah, got it. Why? Your Mum worried?" he snickered, inhaling the smoke.

"No," he replied, staring blankly ahead, "I made a deal with my brother. If he quit, I'd quit too." Greg glanced at the man beside him. "You got your brother to agree to that? Geez, I can't even get my brother lend me a few pounds. How old is he anyway? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

"Fourteen." Mycroft quipped, seemingly glaring at the concrete before turning to a slightly surprised Greg. "Wow... I mean, I didn't start until I was fifteen, but still."

"But still." He agreed quietly. They continued silently until they reached their destination. As Mycroft was about to hand Greg his umbrella, he shook his head again. "You probably need to more than I do." He laughed. Just before he head up the stair, he questioned, "Oh yeah, what's your name?" "Mycroft Holmes." Greg raised an eyebrow at him. "Rather stuffy name for a rather stuffy person." He chuckled, "Hope to see you again, Mycroft Holmes."

He stared stupidly in front of the flat for a few moments. Slowly, he reopened the umbrella and headed home thinking, ' _Now where did I leave that card?'_

_Three Months Ago_

Mycroft mutely read the newspaper, occasionally peeking about the coffee shop, deducing people when he saw it fit. Just as he finished an article on recent vandalism, his phone went off in his pocket. Removing the mobile, he read over the message he had gotten. _My, you in class today? GL_

He rapidly typed a response. _No, classes off today. Why? MH_

_Thought we'd hang out. Any plans? GL_

_None to speak of. What are your thoughts? MH_

_I dunno. Just hang out, I guess. GL_

He rolled his eyes at Greg's answer. He always said that when they got together, it usually consisted of walking about the area, Greg smoking and complaining about everything, Mycroft usually listening and trying to refrain from smoking as well. Mycroft's eyes darted to the window.

_But it's raining. MH_

_And? GL_

Mycroft suppressed a smile. He quickly sent him the address of the café and he headed outside, opening up Greg's umbrella for the two of them.

_Two Months Ago_

Greg laughed as Mycroft followed him quickly into the taxi. The man looked dreadful. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his clothing was soaked through, and he looked exhausted.

"I told you to take the umbrella with you to go back get it." Greg was able to get out between giggles. Mycroft shot him a glare.

"Yes, I'm aware of that. I just didn't expect for it to take that long to run back and get my wallet. How can so many people just appear in ten minutes!?" he groaned, putting his soggy wallet in his pocket irritably. Greg smiled, pressing a kiss to Mycroft's cheek.

"Well, I'm sorry you got wet, _Princess._ " He sneered at Mycroft's offended expression. "Look, if you didn't act so fussy with your appearance, I wouldn't mock you."

"Yes, but unlike you, I have to keep up appearances for things like _school._ "

Greg rolled his eyes. Mycroft was constantly trying to convince him to go back to university. Sure, he hadn't done great in high school, but he could at least _try_ to pursue a better career.

"Ah yes, but love, if I was in school as well, who would you have to spend time with? You'd be like a lonely, wet cat." Greg snickered, receiving a light whack from his umbrella.

_One Week Ago_

"Dammit, Mycroft! I thought we agreed that you would just let this go!" Greg yelled angrily. Mycroft stood there, crossing his arms defiantly.

"No, _you_ agreed, I didn't. Gregory, I simply want you to reach your fullest potential, that's all."

"No! You aren't my fucking Mum, alright? You're my boyfriend! You don't have the right to go out and do things that concern me without my consent, _especially_ when you pull shit like this!" He held a letter from Scotland Yard, apparently approving Greg's admittance into their training academy.

"I'm not trying to be your parent! I'm trying to help you! I want you to do the things you're capable of! Besides, if you're on the force, you're less likely to keep doing those ridiculously childish things you think I don't know about." He spat, leering furiously at him. Greg's eye widened, realizing what he meant.

"So that's it? You want me to do this so that the ever-so-perfect Mycroft Holmes doesn't have to tell people he's dating a druggie? That's your problem? You're worried about your reputation?" He barked.

"You know that isn't-"

"Fuck off, Mycroft." Greg muttered, turning on his heel.

"Where are you going!? Gregory! Greg!" Mycroft called as Greg grabbed his coat and shuffled out into the rain. Mycroft's eyes immediately fell to the umbrella that rested untouched by the door.

_Three Hours Ago_

Mycroft's head shot up when he heard his phone go off. He squinted at the clock, reading three o'clock. Blindly, he grabbed his phone and whispered a hazy hello.

"Hello, is this Mycroft Holmes?"

"Yes, who might this be?"

"This is Doctor Kirkland, from St. Bartholomew's Hospital. I'm calling on behalf of a Gregory Lestrade."

Mycroft sat up in his bed, eyes wide with panic. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm calling on behalf of Gregory Lestrade. There's been an accident involving a drunk driver. We need you to come in."

"Is he alright? Did you call his parents? His brother?" He asked haphazardly, attempting to get dressed as his spoke.

"Mister Holmes, please calm d-"

"Pardon what I'm about to say, Doctor, but I will not calm down! You will answer my questions immediately because it's my boyfriend, not yours, that is currently lying in a hospital bed and I don't know how he is or what is going on because you won't give me the information I need. No, ANSWER. ME." He spat into the phone, becoming increasingly anxious from this woman's lack of response.

"Sir, I can't tell you anything until you come in. I'm very sorry." Mycroft groaned. "Fine, fine. His brother is coming in as well, yes?" There was a pause on the line. "Well?"

"Mister Holmes, you were the only one listed in his emergency contacts."

_Now_

"Mister Holmes?"

Mycroft looked up to see a blonde, tired-looking woman in her early forties. "Yes?" She smiled sleepily at him.

"Mister Lestrade is stable. He's awake and wants to see you. If you'll follow me." She gestured down a hallway. He stood and quickly followed behind.

He bit his lip nervously before pushing open the door quietly. He gasped slightly at the sight of him. Greg had several bruises and bandages covering his cheeks and arms, one of which was in a cast. From what he could see, Mycroft suspected that the man hand fractured four ribs and broken at least one. Greg forced a smile.

"Now I look as lovely as you, Princess." He laughed, only to hiss in pain. Mycroft pulled a seat up next to Greg.

"Yes, thank you. I'm flattered." Mycroft murmured, not really bothering to try with any sarcasm. Greg's eye softened up at him, reaching over to take his carefully.

"You know... I think I'm going to go to that police training thing," Greg said, surprising Mycroft, "I know you want me to do well and what not. Plus, maybe I could catch that son of a bitch that hit me."

Mycroft smiled sadly before carefully leaning over and pressing a kiss against his lips. As they kissed, a loud crash of thunder rang from outside and rain began to start pouring down. When they pulled apart, Greg was smirking.

"I hope you brought an umbrella."


End file.
